Thursday, March 17, 2011

Olivia. Plus scissors.

See all that luscious, beautiful baby hair?

I don’t know about you, but when I look at that hair, I do not think to myself, “You know what this baby is in desperate need of? A haircut.” Actually my brain just comes up with a vague and foggy string of half-words half-noises, things like “fluffy” and inane gurgle sounds and coos.

Now, I’m pretty sure those of you who have been around little girls EVER in your life are probably already gasping in horror and/or chuckling. You know exactly where this isgoing. Nowhere good, that’s where.

Yup, you’ve probably guessed it by now. I heard Olivia crying, and I went to her room to find the door closed. I open the door and Nicole is standing over a bawling Olivia, scissors brandished. (I’m being a bit dramatic, but bear with me, it was pretty dramatic in my own head when it was happening)

Like any good mother, my first reaction was complete panic total calm. “What did you do?!” I hollered calmly inquired. Nicole instantly burst into tears, a combination of guilt and impending doom total remorse.

I snatched the scissors away and put on my best mom-makes-you-feel-guilty performance about how you NEVER have scissors near a baby, all the while flailing my arms in a panic and trying to establish where Olivia was injured to cause such a wail.

When I noticed a chunk of baby hair on the floor I felt a wave of relief wash over me as I realized the source of Olivia’s pain was inevitably having her hair yanked on for a cut. It was just one little bitty chunk on the floor, not so bad. I sent Nicole to her room to stew over the information that she would never again be allowed near scissors until she was in her mid-forties. Then, like any good mom, I snapped a few pictures for the ‘holy crap I can’t believe the shit my kids do’ album. (It’s building up pretty quickly, let me tell you.)

And then I picked up Olivia.

Pardon the crummy picture courtesy of my crackberry. Let me tell you… Nicole cut off more hair than most babies have at this point. SEVERAL LOCKS. There was another hunk on the floor, the first one I had noticed. I would show you a picture of Olivia’s haircut but honestly, her hair is so helter-skelter I couldn’t even tell where it had come from. So I mean, aside from nearly laying an egg from shock, no real harm done.

I know I’m not the only one out there with a “Aww how cute, you have a future hairdresser on your hands there!” horror story. Do share.

4 comments:

Mine came down stairs after a particularly quiet time upstairs, with some scissors and a skullet. She was so proud of her haircut! 3.5yrs olds and scissors don't mix. I spent the rest of the summer trying to convince her that she HAD to wear a hat in public, esp Walmart, so that people wouldn't think we were a bunch of rednecks that cut our daughter's beautiful hair like that!! I took her to my hairdresser, and she just shook her head and said, "I don't think I can fix that!" LOL. Thankfully, by the time she started playschool in the fall, it just looked like we were big fans of the mullet....

She's 8 now, almost 9, with strict orders that only the salon cuts her hair!!

I think this is when Olivia's random balding spots will be playing in her favour! And BTW...I still laugh when I think about this. Don't worry. I'm sure one day I will have children of my own that will bring *you* plenty of joy while I slowly sob in the corner remembering the good ol' days of single life. :)

They don't grow out of it either.My 6 1/2 year old came home the other day with a chunk missing out of her fringe. She'd cut it herself! A stupid move as she's been desperately trying to grow her fringe out for months, and has now had to have a new one cut to even it all out!

About Laura

I am a SAHM to two girls and two boys. I am the scattered but well-meaning wife of my (mostly)patient and (mostly)handy hunk, Chris. I am into sewing, crocheting, knitting, baking, and spraypainting things. I know that I am saved by grace through faith and I believe that I can do almost anything if I am just willing to put forth the effort.